


Home Cooked Meal

by Fawks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, and macaroon the cat shows up, listen its really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 10:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13855614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawks/pseuds/Fawks
Summary: Do you think the world's best doctor had time to learn how to cook?





	Home Cooked Meal

Amélie wasn’t used to it being so warm. She usually found herself on a clifftop on her stomach in her ridiculous armour, but now she found herself at a dinner table in one of Angela’s ridiculously adorable ugly sweaters.

The doctor herself was busying about the small kitchen, a pot of pasta was bubbling over on the stove and the timer on the oven was ringing loudly across the room.

“I know I know I _know!_ ” Angela bickered back at the oven, she was bent over the fridge trying to find something? Amélie wasn’t sure. Amélie went to stand up to help and Angela whipped round and pointed at her with a wooden spoon.

“Sit down!”

“Mon amour, I can _help,_ ” Amélie laughed, looking at the mess that was the stove top. 

“No, stay sat down, drink more wine. You always cook let me do this,”

“Ok, Ok,”

Amélie winced as Angela reached up into the cupboard and nearly lost her balance attempting to get the mismatched plates from the top cupboard, she heard her girlfriend swear softly in German before gently placing both plates on the counter and quickly turning to the oven, she opened the door to a plume of steam and smoke. Amélie could smell the clear smell of burnt food as Angela, armed with a ragged looking pair of oven gloves pulled the blackened dish out of the oven.

“It’s not burnt,” She said, placing the burnt food on the counter.

“It smells delicious, chérie,” It wasn’t a complete lie. Angela flapped about the kitchen looking for the spoon she’d put down seconds ago and Amélie watched on amused. Angela drained the pasta (losing some of it to the sink) and plated uneven amounts on the plates before looking to the burnt dish.

“Do you want some help?” Amélie asked.

“No no, I’m just…” Angela dug in a drawer for a minute and pulled out a pair of tongs and used them to pick at the contents of the black dish. Macaroon, the little black cat that they shared their home with hopped up on the counter and wound his way over to the dishes.

“Off the counter!” Angela growled, waving her hand at the cat who simply stared at her and continued his journey towards the waiting pasta. Amélie rolled her eyes and finally stood from her spot at the table. She scooped up the cat and held him to her chest as she looked at Angela’s creation. The chicken in the dish was black on top and the tomato sauce they’d been cooked it was a charred brown, burnt into the sides of the dish but it was, in Amélie’s opinion, salvageable. Edible.

“This may have gone a little awry,” Angela admitted quietly, placing pieces of chicken onto each plate.

“ _Non,_ no, it’s….”

Angela turned to give Amélie a pointed look.

“It’s not your best work?”

Angela’s scowl faded quickly as she gave a short snort of laughter.

“We can just cut off the burnt bits,” Amélie suggested, dropping the cat to the floor. He sneered at the pair before slinking away.

Amélie took the tongs from her, stealing a kiss alongside them and clicked the tongs twice before stabbing at the chicken, with a tug she lifted the burnt meat away from the bottom of the dish and looked at it grimly.

Angela wound her arms around Amelie’s waist as the pair attempted to salvage Angela’s dish. They both looked down at the overcooked pasta and few unburnt scraps of chicken that sat on top.

“ _Mon ange…”_ Amélie began.

“I know,” Angela said miserably against her neck.

“I love you, I do but…”

“Let’s order pizza?” They both suggested at the same time.

 

 


End file.
